


sweet nothings

by jitters



Category: Persona 5
Genre: ALL THE SPOILERS, M/M, Nothing is Safe, Post-Canon, it's so cheesy i'm ashamed, naughty language and all that stuff, nothing graphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 23:50:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10819335
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jitters/pseuds/jitters
Summary: Lavenza presents Akechi with a gift he isn't certain he should be thankful for.





	sweet nothings

Akechi never comes back.

Not in Shido’s palace, not back in the real world. They never stop hearing his name, around town, on television, at school and every time they check their phones. His name burns their ears at each mention, with the reminders of their last meeting so fresh, so impossible to forget, as much as some of them would like to.

But Akechi isn’t hasn’t disappeared, he isn’t missing, he hasn’t run away, as some newscasters had theorized. No, if only that were the truth, Akira could sleep better at night. But the truth is much harsher; they heard the gunshot, heard the silence that followed, and even more deafening, Futaba’s assured and solemn confirmation, once his presence could no longer be detected.

Akechi is dead, and Akira can’t sleep.

Saving his friends, saving all of Shibuya, and possibly all of mankind, should be enough peace of mind to keep him well-rested, but with all the extra free time to think, Akira spends most of his nights afterwards lying awake, and thinking about Akechi.

Akechi, the one they couldn’t save, the one left behind after the year they spent making a mess of fate. Akira supposes the thoughts aren’t original; maybe they’ve all wondered the same, without ever saying so. Maybe if they’d figured him out sooner, they could’ve found a way to change his heart. Maybe if they had started with Shido, and taken him down before it was too late, Akechi would never have needed a change of heart in the first place.

There are a lot of maybes, and even more ‘what if?’s that plague Akira’s mind whenever it’s not filled with something else. Even in his worst moment, Akira never felt as if Akechi was evil. Damaged, broken, desperate. In need, more than any of the people they’d helped up to that point. But what haunts Akira most of all, is the memory of Akechi’s final moments, filled with so much pain. The sound of his voice, the look in his eyes, they’re things Akira will never be able to forget.

And if he were pressed, he’d admit he doesn’t want to.

More often than not, Akechi is the star of his dreams and the conductor of his nightmares. Sometimes Akira is left with nothing more than a vague sense that Akechi has been there, and other times the dreams are so vivid he feels as if he could reach out and touch the versions of Akechi that appear before him, the projections of his subconscious taunting him with promises that can never be fulfilled and mistakes he can’t take back.

Be it dream or nightmare, Akira wakes up from each one feeling as if they’ve deepened their relationship – whatever it may have been. It feels silly, and confusing, but Akira never shares these feelings with anyone. Dreaming about a dead guy he was always discouraged from liking as much as he did, is not something he thinks would go over well were he to share it with any of them. Trust, is one thing, and the risk of having them worry about his mental and emotional well-being is another, especially when Akira isn’t so certain of himself in that regard.

Oversleeping is something he’s always done, and it makes it that much easier to explain why he looks so damn tired every morning.

It continues at home, after everything’s said and done and he’s expected to get back to his everyday life, as if that could ever have been possible. It goes on so long that Akira expects it, even welcomes his sleepless nights that keep him dragging himself out of bed in the morning with regret and heavy eyelids, and the only relief he gets comes when summer hits, and he heads back to the city, back to Leblanc and everyone he’s missed, everyone who knows all the things he can’t talk to anyone else about.

They throw a party at Leblanc to welcome him back, but Akira can’t focus. Through every greeting and gift and hug, something feels off, or missing, he can’t quite tell which, and most of their chatter goes in one ear and out the other.

They have the TV on for a while, but a chilling news report comes on, where Masayoshi Shido admits to being indirectly responsible for what he believes was Goro Akechi’s death.

It’s a name Akira hasn’t heard in months, even though he’s been thinking it constantly, and the sound alone almost makes him sick to his stomach, growing light-headed as the mood temporarily dies down with the weight of those words until Sojiro becomes annoyed enough to turn the TV off.

They spend the rest of the party trying to pick the mood back up, but for Akira, it never works. The sushi tastes bland, his head feels heavy, his sight just the slightest bit blurry, and his hearing muffled. Something’s wrong.

He doesn’t figure out what that could be until the end of the night, when nearly everyone’s left, Sojiro and Futaba giving them both a sideways look when Makoto lingers, trying to look inconspicuous as she texts on her phone in the corner. Akira’s more confused than anyone, but his attempted refusals are ignored when Sojiro winks at him, and Futaba snickers as she scoops Morgana up into her arms to drag him back to their place.

“Relax,” Makoto laughs when the door closes behind them, leaving the two of them alone. “It’s not what you think. Sis just wants to talk to you.”

Makoto pulls him into the booth, sitting across from him and crossing her arms, placing her phone in Akira’s hand, and Akira puts it to his ear, finding Sae’s voice on the other end of it.

“My apologies for the unorthodox methods of communication,” She remarks. “What I need to ask you is sensitive information I wouldn’t like traced between us.”

“Okay,” Akira agrees, raising a confused eyebrow at Makoto, who shrugs with as much ignorance.

“Even if you feel I already know the answer, I need you to answer me honestly one last time,” Sae’s voice turns stern. “Did you kill Goro Akechi?”

“No,” Akira’s stomach nearly jumps into his throat, and he has to swallow heavily a few times just to get the feeling to go away. “No, of course not. No way.”

“I believe you,” Sae sighs, but she pauses for so long that Akira begins to worry, clearing his throat into the phone as casually as he can manage. “Hold out your hand to Makoto. She’ll know what to do.”

Akira has had none of his questions answered, but he does as he’s told, holding out his hand palm-up, meeting Makoto’s eyes and narrowing them at her. But as Sae promised, Makoto nods, reaching into her bag and pulling out a plain blank envelope and placing it in Akira’s hand.

“Do you have it?” Sae asks, and Akira mutters in agreement. “Good. This is something that turned up during our investigation of Goro Akechi. I was the one who discovered it, and no one else knows it existed. I took careful precautions to get this to you without arousing suspicion, so please forgive Makoto for playing her part in this.”

“Let me guess, don’t tell anyone?” Akira asks cheekily, thankful when he gets a quiet amused chuckle from Sae instead of a scolding.

“That’s right,” Sae confirms, and after her own friendly welcome back, she hangs up, and Akira gives the phone back to Makoto, shrugging.

“What do you think is in it?” She asks in a hushed voice.

“You don’t know?”

“Sis wanted me to make sure this got into your hands and no one else’s,” Makoto explains. “She even swore me not to peek inside. Even though I really wanted to.”

“Surprised that stopped you,” Akira smirks.

“ _Ha-ha_ , Joker,” Makoto follows his tone, but does respectfully drop it, heading towards the door and making sure no one’s outside watching before she opens it. “Let’s hang out at least once while you’re here,” she suggest, and Akira nods, locking the door behind her when she leaves and closing down Leblanc as he always used to.

The envelope is there waiting for him after both the darkness and silence have filled the room, and Akira is careful as he wraps fingers around it, keeping it closed until he arrives upstairs in his room, still kept in the same condition he’d left it in. He resists it long enough to change into pajamas and pull out a few personal items, but the temptation is so great, he forgoes brushing his teeth like he knows he should, climbing into bed and carefully ripping the envelope open as soon as he’s run out of any excuses not to.

Out of it, falls a pocket-sized composition notebook, with the label ‘Notes’ on the cover, and no other identifying information. But he doesn’t need any. His stomach twists the second it lands in his hand, and Akira takes more care than he ever has in cracking open the cover of it.

On the first page, the writer explains they’ve been given instruction to investigate the Phantom Thieves, and how this notebook will detail their findings.

Akira dives in, and finds himself re-living each of his interactions with Akechi all over again, whether he wants to or not.

It starts out as Akira would imagine any other boring investigation would, with Akechi’s notes and intel, detailing his conclusion that the thieves were Shujin students, and his pursuit of investigation on them. But the diligence changes focus at what Akira suspects is the point where he’d become Akechi’s prime suspect. There are pages upon pages, detailing Akechi’s research on the student he’d met at the TV station, who he’d verbally engaged on camera and felt the need to look further into. Pages upon pages, marking how easy it was for him to find Akira’s name, and where he worked and lived, and how he’d planned his visit to Leblanc as soon as he had that information.

Detailing, the kinds of coffee he’d tasted on different days, on changes in Akira’s demeanor and how willingly he accepted all of Akechi’s ramblings, and how his investigation began to feel less like work, and how often his intentional entrances into Akira’s daily routine were outside his responsibilities, but how he felt compelled to continue with them anyway.

Akira pours over the notebook, and though he finds off-handed mentions of his fellow teammates, they are all summarized much more easily and concisely, conclusions about them reached early and without much desire for deeper thought.

Aligning them with his memories of the dates of the past year, Akira arrives on the last used page of the notebook, where Akechi had left only one sentence, just a short while before he’d approached them with an offer to join with them:

‘ _My investigation is complete, and i_ _t seems my instructions have changed._ ’

Akira stares at that page for a long time. It starts to eat at him, the realization that he could have changed so much if he’d welcomed Akechi in sooner, or if they’d met even a few months earlier, and his head begins to pound, heaviest it’s ever been. He tosses the notebook into his bag and lies down, his body suddenly lethargic and weighing him down, and for the first time in months he finds himself drifting into sleep with more speed and ease than he knew was possible.

 

* * *

 

Akira wakes up surrounded by blue. A blinding blue, so intense he has to rub his eyes until they adjust to the light. The velvet room as he’s always know it, always gave him the same heavy feeling, but already he feels the difference. Vision clear, he notices, with very little effort, that this isn’t the velvet room he’s grown used to. The ceilings are high, ample space to breathe, and though there’s a wall behind him, there are rows of seats in front of the one he finds himself sitting in.

Front-and-center is a single podium, with a table on each side and an ominously large bench looming over the room. A courtroom, it hits him. He’s quick to take a seat in the front-most row of the gallery, hands folded on the chair, between his loosely-parted knees, a lazy slump down into the wooden seat that offers very little comfort – but at least it’s better than a jail cell.

He’s right in the midst of wondering why the room is both so different and so empty, when all of that changes.

“You again?” A voice says, and Akira looks up to see one Goro Akechi, gloves and all, seating himself just a few bodies’ distance away.

“What are you doing here?”

Akechi smirks, head tilted downwards so his hair falls in his face, body turned forwards so Akira only has a proper view of his profile. “I should be the one asking you that, Joker.”

“No, really-- “Akira insists. “What are you _doing here_? You’re supposed to be--”

“Dead?” Akechi crosses one leg over the other, arms crossing as he leans back against his seat and raises his eye line towards the ceiling. “I’ve been wondering that myself, but now that you’re here, I’m beginning to sense I’ll soon have answers to my questions.”

“Hm,” Akira chuckles. “I don’t have any answers for you.”  
  
“Is that so?” Akechi’s hands come to his knees, feet flat on the floor with fingers pressing into his pants. “You seem awfully calm for someone who supposedly has no idea what’s going on.”

“I know it’s just a dream,” Akira says. “No use getting worked up about it.” But such a statement is exciting enough that it gets Akechi laughing, and despite everything, to Akira it sounds suspiciously genuine.

“So, it’s not abnormal for you to see me in your dreams? I’m flattered.”

Akira shrugs. “I wouldn’t say it’s a compliment.”

“No? Ah--” Akechi interrupts himself, turning full-sideways and leaning closer – a fruitless effort since he’s far enough a way that such a gesture does very little for their distance. “It’s true you are wearing pajamas. And your glasses are missing… Can you see me properly?”

“They’re fake,” Akira bites. “Just like you.”

“A scathing comeback...” Akechi leans back, hands gripping his knees once again, and though Akira feels a certain sense of satisfaction from successfully silencing him, he can’t say he enjoys the silence once he has it. “I think I’d be hurt, if you weren’t so clever.”

 _Clever_. Akira practically snorts. “You don’t have to do that anymore. I’d kinda rather you didn’t.”

“Hm? Do what?”

“That--” Akira waves his hand, ambiguously, aimlessly. “Pretending to like me, or whatever it is you’re doing. Even you’re gonna insult me again, at least if it’s real, I’d prefer that.”

This has Akechi crossing his legs again, fingers all the way up to his chin in thought. “My feelings for you are...complicated.”

“I’ll say,” Akira raises his eyebrows, mere layers of hesitation away from mimicking Akechi’s pose in playful mockery. But he resists. “Out of all the people who’ve confessed their love to me, you’re the first to also try to kill me.”  
  
“What!?” Akechi’s on his feet before Akira can even lift his head, unconsciously scratching his ear in response to the sudden shriek. “When did I conf-- Ah, you’re teasing me, right?”  
  
“Kinda,” Akira pulls his index and middle finger together, thumb facing upwards, his fingers in the shape of a gun, which he points towards Akechi with a blank expression. “Or did you forget the part where you pointed a gun at my head and pulled the trigger?”

“You know that’s not what I’m--!” Akechi raises his voice, back stiff in response to the gun gesture in his direction, as fake and silly as it may be, and the angry wrinkle in his forehead is barely more controllable than the way he instinctively swats Akira’s hand away. “Don’t joke about something like that.”

“It’ll be harder to forgive you if I can’t joke about it,” Akira sighs, but he does pull his hand back.

“Forgive me?” Akechi’s eyes widen at first, but after some facial re-position Akira can only assume is parallel to his emotional turmoil, Akechi’s gritting his teeth, eyes shut tight and hands balled into fists. “Why would you ever want to forgive someone like me?”

“I dunno. We’re kinda friends I guess. I want to help you.”

“Tch--” Akechi’s laugh is halted, bitten back by his own force. “Do you have some sort of savior complex? At least you could argue being on the side of justice with the others you saved, but you gain nothing from helping me.”

“Hah. So you’re really that selfish,” Akira shakes his head, more amused than accusatory, even when Akechi’s expression changes from a solemn one to a surprised scowl.

“What?”

“You’re selfish,” Akira repeats. “Everything you did was for your own goal. I don’t think you even know what it’s like to do something for the sake of someone else.”

Akechi’s jaw tightens. “So what? No one’s ever done anything for me.”

“Hm,” Akira’s hands slide into his pockets, foot tapping against the floor, just for a few seconds, long enough to leave Akechi thinking. “What makes you think me wanting to help you isn’t for you?”

“I don’t deserve that, _Joker_.” Akechi’s voice lowers. “People died because of me, because I couldn’t handle--” Akechi’s voice trails off, his tight jaw softening until a smile grows in its place. Your cat friend was right about me. It’s childish, how tightly I clung to such abstract concepts as acknowledgment and love. With my goals as they were, perhaps those things were never within my reach in the first place.”

“Huh,” Akira muses, after a moment of quiet reflection, eyes hovering over the faint quiver to Akechi’s lips and the way his under-eye twitches. “This is real, isn’t it?”

“Real?” Akechi doesn’t look up.

“Mmm, yeah,” Akira’s elbows rest on his knees, back arched into a terrible posture that makes it easier for him to rub his neck. “Your TV voice always seemed fake, but the way you’re talking now feels more like the Akechi that sat in Leblanc pouring his heart out to me like I was some kind of bartender.”  
  
“In a way, you’re asking if that was real then?” Akechi’s lip tightens.

“It felt like it. Am I wrong?”

“Strangely enough,” Akechi laughs. “I don’t think you are. My intentions may not have always been pure but I could never shake the feeling that my attraction to you was.”

“Attraction huh,” Akira smirks.

“Yes. Like magnets.”

“I’m sure that’s what you meant.”

“It was!” Akechi staunchly defends, but his hard-boiled look softens the second he looks over to find Akira smiling. Akechi can’t help smiling too, seeing that, and for a few seconds it almost feels like a peaceful moment, despite their history, despite their surroundings, despite the events that led them to this moment in the first place.

It’s the kind of moment Akechi would cling to, were he to allow himself the chance, but reality – or what he perceives it to be – always has a way of bringing him back down. His smile falls as soon as it had sprouted, Akechi tucking his hair behind his ears when his head drops instead of letting it cover his face, and something about it makes him seem so much smaller. Akira can’t help but stare.

“Akecchi,” Akira calls, hoping the verbal hook on his name doesn’t go unnoticed. “You’re not unlovable.”

Akechi stills, hand frozen mid-hair tuck as he turns towards Akira, eyes almost bright before he blinks that faint glimmer away. “How did you know I… Hm. I wasn’t thinking that.”

“Really?” Akira raises an eyebrow. “Because from here it looked like you were happy for a second and made yourself stop.”

“Why...” Akechi grumbles, eyebrows knit together in defiance of the rest of his visible body language. “How do you always…? Who are you, Joker?”

Akira chuckles smugly. “Just the guy a god set up to to be your rival.”

“Then why are you always winning?” Akechi doesn’t miss a beat. “Why do we have such similar powers, yet you’re the only one who came out on top?” Pushing onto his feet, Akechi approaches the witness stand, hands at the podium and tightly gripping the edges of it. “I know more about you than I should, Joker… You have everything I don’t.”

“That’s just how it is.”

“What would you know!” Akechi yells, walls seemingly vibrating from the sudden change in volume, but Akira is sure he must have imagined it. His hands slam on the podium in frustration, forehead briefly resting against the wood with similar vigor. “I’ve seen you, Joker. You have two loving parents. You’re a hero to everyone who truly knows what you did. Adding to all the friends I know you’re surrounded by, I know you’d need more than all your fingers and toes to count the number of people who love you.”

“I’m not really that--”

“I’ve seen it.” Akechi sighs, strength seemingly draining right out of him. “My father abandoned us, so eager to get away from the child he never wanted. My mother was so burdened by me that she ended up leaving this world altogether. I was never adopted… The police only respect me as long as I’m useful to them, and my fans… They were as quick to abandon me and side with you as they were to look my way in the first place.”

“None of that is your fault,” Akira mutters, having slipped onto his feet and sidled up behind Akechi in the midst of his speech without him noticing. As soon as he has noticed and pulled himself up off the podium, Akira presses forward, wrapping both his arms around Akechi’s torso and closing in on him, chin resting on his shoulder without shame.

“W-what are you doing?”

“It’s a hug,” Akira tucks his chin in to drive the point home. “I feel like you’ve needed one for a long time.”

“No, I--” Akechi’s voice catches in his throat, his normally eloquent demeanor taking a hit, and he’s unable to hide the way he’s starting to get choked up.

“Just shut up and listen for once,” Akira demands, softly. “You did a lot of bad stuff but what happened to you isn’t your fault. Shido’s an asshole. You didn’t make your mother sick. The shitty government failed you when you needed help. And all the people who’d turn against you so easily never really loved you for you in the first place so why care?”

“Fleeting approval that I knew how to obtain was better than none at all,” Akechi explains, hands balled into fists he doesn’t know what to do with, arms tight at his sides, refusing to set his hands anywhere out of uncertainty.

“Honesty’s more rewarding, trust me,” Akira sighs. “Now are you gonna hug me back or should I give up on this and let go?”

“Neither of those sound ideal...”

“Hmmm,” Akira hesitates, loosening his grip as a fake-out only to then grip Akechi tighter, with more warm and both his hands pressed against the other’s back.

“Y-you truly are a man of action,” Akechi half-laughs, but he finally gives in, arms wrapping around Akira’s form, his hold hesitant and gentle. “Though this is the most I’ve ever heard you speak...”

Akira shrugs. “You did try to kill me, but more recently sacrificed yourself to save me. That’s worth something.”

“I see...” Akechi’s voice softens, along with his posture and expression, and he allows himself to revel in the silence and the warmth of their embrace. It isn’t long before Akira feels a change though, and feels Akechi’s fingers curl against his back at the same time he feels a distinct wetness on his neck.

“Akechi, are you crying?” He doesn’t move, regardless.

“No,” Akechi lies, the sniffle that follows transparently giving him away. “I was just thinking it really would have been nice if I’d met you a few years earlier. I might’ve had a happy ending.”

“It’s not too late,” Akira offers flatly, but that has Akechi chuckling softly and pulling back enough to wipe his eye with a gloved finger. His other arm remains wrapped around Akira’s waist though, and Akira knows that counts for something too.

“You said yourself this is a dream, didn’t you Joker? What hope is there for me outside of this room when I know neither how I got here nor how to get out?”

“Yeah...” Akira has a better answer lined up, he’d swear by it, but it’s not easy when they’re face-to-face and it takes ever fiber of his being not to tell Akechi that he’s pretty when he cries. Even if it is the truth. “There has to be a way,” he offers instead.

Akechi blinks. “What do you mean?”

It’s a fair question, but Akira doesn’t get a chance to answer it before there’s a rumbling laughter echoing through the room. It’s friendly and familiar, but it belongs to neither of them, and it doesn’t seem to be coming from any particular direction.

“My master won’t be happy I did this,” the voice calls. “But please make good use of the gift I’m about to give the both of you.”

“Lavenza?” He wonders aloud, reaching out a hand when a familiar blue butterfly passes in front of them, but it flutters past Akira’s hand and instead lands on Akechi’s nose, flapping its wings a few times before returning to flight and disappearing altogether.

“I’m suddenly feeling quite sleepy,” Akechi murmurs, arm dropping from Akira’s waist and covering his head; it’s so quick that Akira almost doesn’t catch him in time when Akechi’s fatigue has his knees giving out, and their intimate position ends up being the only thing that keeps him from crashing to the ground.

“Akechi!”

But everything goes dark.

 

* * *

 

It was a dream. Akira knew that all along, but that doesn’t stave off the disappointment he feels when consciousness reaches him, black behind his eyelids instead of blue and a heavy head pressed into his pillow. It almost feels like mockery, the way the warmth has lingered around his middle, and Akira naturally shifts to rub at his stomach to force the sensation away.

He pauses when his hand rests on what is unmistakably not his own body, and his eyes force themselves open despite the sun streaming in through the blinds on his windows and the bustling from the street outside. Around his waist is far more than nothing – it’s Akechi’s arms that lay tightly hooked around him, his identity apparent the second Akira had seen the gloves on his hands. It’s perhaps far from tactful, when Akira sits up and pulls away without a care, but being tactful has never been among his priorities, and catching Akechi’s drowsy eyes blinking open in confusion only makes him feel like he’s better off that way.

“Morning, sunshine,” Akira teases, masking his own shock. “Wild, huh?”

“Yeah… Oh!” Akechi sits up even faster than Akira had, sitting on his feet and resting hands nervously on his knees. “This isn’t my own bedroom.”

“That’s what you’re surprised about?” Akira laughs. “Not the fact that you’re...you know. Alive?”

“That’s fair,” Akechi smiles, swiftly hanging his feet off the side of the bed the second he notices he happens to have spawned in this unfamiliar bed wearing shoes. “I don’t remember being dead… I guess it’s difficult to experience a mental transition I have no memory of.”

“You don’t remember the velvet room?”

“No, I remember that,” Akechi clears his throat, eyes looking far away, in the same solemn way they used to when he’d opened his hard in the cafe so many months ago. “Thank you, Joker,” he sighs, a tentative hand resting on top of one of Akira’s. “That was the most meaningful exchange I’ve ever had with another human being.”

“Akira,” he corrects. “I just met you in my dreams to summon you from the dead, I think you can at least go back to using my first name.”

“When you put it like that,” Akechi smiles. “I suppose I can’t argue, Akira.”

“You have funny timing,” Akira rubs the back of his neck. “Up until yesterday, most people just thought you were missing. But Shido went on TV saying you must’ve died doing something dangerous for him and everyone just went along with it. It’s kinda not far from the truth but--”

“But now I have to explain why I’m neither dead nor hiding.” Akechi’s smile turns to a frown, and though he pauses before each one, he slowly removes his gloves and sets them both on the windowsill. “Even I don’t know the answers. What do you think I should say, Akira?”

“Me?” Akira raises an eyebrow, lazily falling back to rest his entire body on his bed, arm behind him between his head and pillow. “I’m not good at giving advice. If it were me I’d just change my appearance, keep my head low, and hope no one noticed me.”

Akechi’s pause is long, but instead of the usual pensive expression, he’s quickly beaming, all but hopping onto his feet. “You’re brilliant,” he chuckles, undoing the buttons of his signature jacket and tossing it flamboyantly onto the couch. “This feels great already. Is that why you wear your glasses and dress in such muted colors? Are you trying not to be seen?”

“Not really...” Akira pulls out his phone, secretly looking up Akechi’s name in the news just in case there happens to be any new information – but of course there isn’t. Even if they’re so convinced that Akechi has suffered a horrible death, even if there may by chance be some truth to it, there’s no body for them to find. There wouldn’t be, even if he wasn’t standing right in Akira’s bedroom. He reads the same sentence on several websites, ‘ _Masayoshi Shido Confirms Goro Akechi’s Likely Death_.’ He’s standing right in front of him, and it still makes Akira sick to his stomach.

“Could I borrow some of your clothes?”

It almost makes Akira laugh, that is until he drops his phone onto the bed and looks up, to Akechi’s shirt half-done and wide open, curiously looking around the room, and Akira’s eyes widen. “Sure,” he agrees without thinking, and any regret he may have otherwise felt for being so easy is expelled once Akechi’s face breaks into a grin he hasn’t seen on him before. Not bad.

“Perhaps I should cut my hair too,” Akechi muses, at the same time Akira slumps out of bed and across the room to his still-unpacked luggage. “But it wouldn’t be wise attempting to cut it myself.”

“For now you could just try styling it differently,” Akira nods, tossing Akechi a pair of fitted black jeans and a gray v-neck t-shirt. “These should fit. Wouldn’t suggest going downstairs until you’re ready to freak out Morgana and Boss but I’ll close my eyes while you change if you want.”

“Oh-- I...” Akechi’s face turns red. “Funny, I hadn’t thought about it until you said that, but suddenly I’m self-conscious.”

“No problem,” Akira smirks, covering both of his eyes with his hands and standing still, close enough that he hears and senses Akechi’s every movement, but he does keep his eyes closed as promised. Even when he hears all movement stop, and no more ruffles of clothing, he holds back his temptation to peek. Even when he hears Akechi’s muttering under his breath and a mysterious shuffling of items that sounds like it’s coming from his desk. “What are you doing?”

“Not snooping, I swear,” Akechi taps Akira on the shoulder. “Besides, I found what I needed.”

“And what was th--” Akira finally drops his hands, but beyond expectation, he has to take a step backwards. He knew it from the beginning, that seeing Akechi in his clothing would get a rise out of him, but what he wasn’t prepared for was how seriously Akechi would have taken his styling suggestion; there Akechi stands, proudly sporting Akira’s outfit, with his hair intricately tied up behind his head, ears and cheekbones more prominently displayed that any time in Akira’s memory. “Well shit,” Akira breathes. “You’re even cuter than I thought.”

“Oh-- I… Oh. Um, thank you.”

Akira snorts. “That’s the least eloquent thing I’ve ever heard out of you.”

“Yes, well,” Akechi clears his throat, innocent smile unconvincing. “Even though I’ve heard similar words before, they feel different coming from you.”

“Isn’t that because you like me?” Akira says, as easily as he’d say anything else, at the same time he digs around through his luggage and pulls out a change of clothes for himself, stripping off his shirt and pants without so much as a warning.

“You’re too reckless,” Akechi clears his throat again, this time far more forcefully, turning his back to Akira and hiding his mouth behind his hand.

“It’s okay,” Akira smirks at his back. “I like you too.”

“That’s, ahem, quite a strange thing to joke about.”

“I wasn’t joking,” Akira says as he slips on his socks and shoes, still pulling his shirt over his bare torso as he pats Akechi on the shoulder and heads for the stairs. “Come on, I can’t wait to see Boss’s face.”

Akechi follows silently, but the both of them walk into LeBlanc to a surprisingly empty room, with neither Sojiro nor Morgana anywhere to be seen. On the counter behind the bar Akira finds a note, which he reads aloud:

 

‘ _Out shopping with Futaba_

_She insisted we bring the cat_

_Will be back late_

_\- S.S._ ’

  
Unexpectedly, Akechi laughs and sits himself down in his usual spot across from Akira at the bar, elbows resting on the counter. “Sojiro-san’s an interesting one, signing such an innocuous letter like that.”

“We have the place to ourselves,” Akira notes, crumpling up Sojiro’s note and stuffing it into his pocket. “I could make some coffee and we could fool around.”

Akechi nearly slips right off his stool. “H-how is it possible for you to say things like that so easily? Don’t you worry about the other person’s response?”

“That’s the best part,” Akira shrugs. “Especially yours. My best audience.”

“And you’re even more entertaining than my favorite TV shows,” Akechi grins, resting one hand beneath his chin and the other on his knee.

“Akechi, are you flirting with me?”

This time – and perhaps for the first time – it’s Akechi who’s silent, even when Akira curiously pushes a full cup of coffee in front of him, and he takes an eager sip. “Mm, you may be even more skilled at this than Sojiro-san.”

Akira shakes his head in refusal, but he does get a sense of satisfaction when he pours himself an identical cup and has to admit that it is one of the most delicious he’s ever prepared. It’s the first time he’s shared such a quiet moment with Akechi, and the most truly private one they’ve shared in the real world, and Akira finds himself strumming his fingers across the side of his cup. “Akechi, you don’t actually like coffee, do you?”

Akechi puts his cup down, eyes wide and hands gripping the warmth of it as he slightly tilts his head to the side. “What makes you say so?”

“No reason,” Akira lies.

“Hm...” Akechi brings the cup to his lips again, this time closing his eyes and taking no sips, only a long inhale of the scent with a peaceful smile on his face. “I don’t know if I’d say I like it, but I have an appreciation for coffee. There’s something comforting about the smell, and about sitting here drinking it with you.”

“You’re surprisingly adorable for a criminal,” Akira jokes, but soon realizes Akechi doesn’t find it nearly as funny, as he sets his cup down with a hard clink, gaze hardening at an empty space on the counter.

“How many shadows did you kill? Rob? I couldn’t even think to count how many were slain just in the time I was a thief, and you were one for much longer.”

It’s often that Akira is stunned into silence, but this instance is quite unlike most others, and Akira has to set down his own drink to keep from dropping it, starring back at Akechi with an evenly met intense gaze. “Okay,” he gives. “Truce?”

“Truce.”

They shake on it, and their handshake is warm. Akira knows it’s just the coffee, but a part of him feels like it isn’t _just_ the coffee, and it makes it hard to let go. But he has to, and takes it upon himself to clear their dishes and wash them himself, Akechi silently waiting with a whimsical tap to his foot. It almost feels domestic, but Akira’s never been that type, and instead finds himself fixating on how much he inexplicably seems to love the sight of Akechi’s exposed neck. A change in hairstyle was easily one of the best ideas he’s ever had.

“Akira.”

“Hm?”

“You’re staring. I think.”

“Yeah,” Akira shakes the dish water from his hands. “You look good. Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Akechi’s head hangs low, arms folding across his chest as he once again turns pensive, index finger tapping against his upper arm. “These compliments feel different coming from you. You said it’s due to my feelings for you, but I can’t help but think there’s something else.”

“You’re saying you don’t have feelings for me?” One singular, skeptical eyebrow raised, Akira slides into the seat next to Akechi with a cocky grin.

“That’s not what I’m saying,” Akechi confesses and hides all at once. “It’s as if...the way you see me isn’t the way everyone else does.”

“More truth than theory,” Akira laughs. “I never really bought that happy-go-lucky ace detective thing. I liked you more the more I saw it crack.”

“You’re the opposite of everyone else...” Akechi sighs, turning away so Akira can’t see his face. “It’s a nice day outside. Shall we go somewhere? It might be fun to test this disguise before I’m caught and it’s too late.”

“Mm. First date?” Akira winks, but Akechi’s ready this time, offering an almost-identical wink back at him, even if it does nothing in the way of answering his question.

They work this way though, and the moments spent quietly enjoying each other’s presence as they both step outside and walk aimlessly down the street in Yongen-jaya towards the station, feel peaceful, surprisingly easy and natural given all their circumstances. More importantly, Akechi takes note early on that nobody seems to be noticing him. It’s the most at ease he’s ever felt in public, without any eyes on him, from adults or fellow students, and he can’t help but fall in line close by Akira’s side as he takes it in stride, how much easier existing feels when he doesn’t feel the need to be so aware of any sets of eyes on him.

It feels easy, until it begins to feel like something else. Akira goes even quieter in public, wanting to make as little impression on others as possible in opposition to Akechi’s former image. So most of Akechi’s idle chatter is met with no more than nods or mutters of agreement, or a smile here and there. No one bats an eyelash at either of them. But when they boards the subway and take their seats, and Akira finally asks Akechi where he wants to go, there are confused eyes upon them, or rather, on Akira. Akechi hushes his voice when he responds that anywhere Akira chooses is fine. But still, no eyes direct towards him.

Shibuya station is where Akechi begins to get suspicious. Even after they exist the train and find themselves surrounded by people of all ages, and not a single one seems to glance his way. He almost thinks he’s imagining it, but it’s Akira who eventually stops in the middle of the square and shoots Akechi a confused look with a scratch to his head.

“I never thought the disguise thing would work,” he muses. “You don’t look that different.”  
  
“Perhaps they’ve already forgotten what I look like. It has been a few months, if I’ve counted correctly.”

“Your picture was all over the news,” Akira stares at Akechi, hand rubbing the back of his neck and expression growing more concerned than confused. “Wouldn’t at least someone be surprised seeing someone just announced dead?”

“It is nice not being watched,” Akechi admits, his detective nature peeking out as his hand comes to rest on his chin, head slightly bowed in consideration. “But something does feel off about this. I can’t speak towards my current popularity, but it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to walk around without being recognized.”

“Yo, Akira!”

They’re both looking at each other with the same worried expression, when Ryuji runs up behind Akira and clasps a hand on his shoulder, affectionately pulling him in for a sideways hug and popping a fist against his shoulder.

“I thought I heard you talking to someone, but you must’ve just been on the phone or something?”

“Is he pretending not to see me?” Akechi scoffs bemused, leaning on one hip and placing a hand on it.

Akira shrugs apologetically, but quickly turns his attention to Ryuji, typing something out on his phone and occasionally glancing up towards Akira’s suspicious glance.

“Oh hey,” Ryuji stuffs pockets his phone. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here, I’m on my way to meet with the track team or else I’d say we should hang out.”

“It’s okay, we’ve got plans anyway.”

“Huh?” Ryuji cocks his head to the side, eyes wide and worried, his leg kicking almost nervously. “Did we make plans I forgot about? Shit, I’m sorry if I did, I can’t--”

“Don’t worry, I meant me and Akechi.” Akira shoots Akechi a smile then, as if to send a certain kind of hint, but Ryuji takes a shocked step backwards and violently shakes his head.

“Don’t even joke about that stuff, dude! I know the news was upsetting but that’s not funny.”

Akira stares, and Akechi stares, and they both slowly turn to each other as their amused skepticism turns to a much more serious knot in the both of their stomachs. As if signaled by something in their shared look, Akechi waves a hand in front of Ryuji’s face, panic setting in when he gets no reaction from it, and he quickly jumps from 0 to 100, giving Ryuji a shove with one hand.

It goes right through him.

Akira’s face matches Akechi’s in a similar shade of white seeing this right before their eyes, and they’re on the same page when Akechi then reaches out for Akira, finding that his hand connects to his shoulder with no abnormality. They touch, and it’s warm, but with a hand still clasped tightly on Akira’s body, Akechi waves a hand towards Ryuji, only to have it go right through him again.

“You okay?” Ryuji rightfully questions, watching all of Akira’s changing expressions with no idea what he could be reacting to, but Akira hardly has it in him to answer, both shaking his head and nodding it in a frenzy, and he can barely hear Ryuji’s voice telling him that he has to get going and to call him later, but somehow, he agrees.

Akechi runs straight into a crowd of people, reaching out for each one of them and calling out. They don’t see him, or feel him, or hear him. Even when he screams at the top of his lungs, it goes unnoticed, and Akechi stumbles backwards and falls to his knees. Akira doesn’t much care about who he’s bumping into when he pushes past the crowd to get to him, but he does try to look as inconspicuous as possible when he kneels down on the ground next to him, a hand pressed against his back.  
  
“What’s going on...” Akechi wonders, desperately, and it’s at the same moment that Akira opens his mouth to speak, and offer some kind of encouragement, that there’s a flash of light from beside them, and after blinking through it, Akira recognizes the appearance of a familiar sight – the door to the velvet room.

“Come on,” Akira whispers, pulling Akechi onto his feet and dragging him inside, relieved to find them in the same courtroom as the night before instead of the jail cell he feared ever seeing again.  
  
Emotionally overwhelmed, Akechi takes a seat in the gallery, but Akira thinks he has a better idea of what to do, and immediately searches the entire room, looking for Lavenza. He’s never figured out quite how to control this place, nor has he ever put much thought into it, but he knows at the very least that she’s the only one who has all the answers.

“It seems you have discovered the gift I left you with,” comes that familiar soft voice from above, and Akira takes a firm stance behind the witness stand, looking up at Lavenza where she sits atop the abnormally large bench before them.

“What gift?” He stares.

“Your wishes have aligned,” Lavenza explains with a smile, arm clutching her book with affection. “It’s thanks to that alignment, I was able to grant them.”

“What wish?” Akechi speaks up, eyebrows narrowed and jaw locked tight, lacking any tact as he pushes next to Akira, taking over the space behind the podium and staring Lavenza down. “What could I have wished for that would lead to this?”

Lavenza’s kind expression turns sympathetic, and she effortlessly drops down to their level with precision and grace that defies reality. Both hands hold her book in front of her, and she matches Akechi’s gaze as he requests.

“The strongest wish in your heart was that you’d met the Trickster sooner. At that same moment, the Trickster’s greatest wish was that he’d been able to save you, somehow. Though I could not send you back in time, I was able to grant your hearts’ wishes, within the limits of my powers, by granting you the ability to unite again.”

Akira and Akechi exchange another glance, Akira’s lingering a bit longer even after Akechi’s broken it, a softer set of eyes now set on Lavenza’s innocent face. “That explains why he can see me. But why can’t anyone else?”

“To everyone else,” Lavenza hangs her head. “You are thought to be dead. To most, the real you never existed in the first place.”

“The real me…?” Akechi grits his teeth, hands similarly gripping the sides of the podium and causing his knuckles to go white. “You mean because the image everyone had of me was fake, their belief in me was as fleeting as the facade itself.”

Lavenza nods. “Right now, you exist on a plane similar to my own. Those who are aware of my existence, and are in need of my assistance, will be able to see me. We were both used as tools by the same false god, and it’s thanks to that connection we share with the Trickster, that I was able to help you.”

Eyes wide, Akira silently points a finger towards himself and quirks his head questioningly, and Lavenza softly laughs as she nods, setting her Book onto the ground and stepping on top of it, using it as a step to bring her closer to their heights. Taking one hand from each of them, Lavenza closes her eyes and holds on tightly.

“Though your fates were tied under unfortunate circumstances, with little more than evil intent, that does not mean you have to live according to those intentions. Please, I implore you to use this gift for good. The bond you formed despite the forces working both with and against you should not go to waste.”

Akira agrees, just as easily as he agrees to everything else, but when he looks over to Akechi, he doesn’t find any of the reassurance he was hoping for. Akechi’s face is twisted into a scowl so tight his lip is quivering, or perhaps is scowl is struggling to hold it in, and before he or Lavenza can say anything, Akechi turns on his heel and takes charge for the door they game in, swift enough on his feet that Akira almost misses his chance to catch him.

Only almost though.

“Akechi,” he breathes, making a deft grab for his wrist. “Where are you going?”

“I don’t know!” Akechi shoves Akira’s arm off of him, turning his back to him and tightly gripping both his fists, feet planted firmly on the floor with his knees and jaw all locked tight. “Maybe if I just go back home--”

“You don’t have one,” Akira sighs flatly. “I didn’t know how to show you this.”

Akira tucks a hand in his back pocket, pulling out the small notebook he’d been mulling over all night and day, holding it out for Akechi to take.

“This is my...” His eyes widen, jaw loosening and hands shakily reaching for it. “How did you get this? Why do you have it?”

“Sae-san,” Akira shoves both hands in his pockets, shrugging. “They investigated you, Akechi. Your apartment belongs to someone else now if it’s not still a crime scene. Everything you owned is either in the trash or in police custody as evidence.”

“Blunt as usual...” Akechi’s arms drop, along with his head, his eyes, his voice. It’s as if he begins to sink further into the floor even while standing up.

“Akechi, if you really woke up alive and everyone could see you, who would you want to see?”

Though his body’s still lethargic, Akechi looks up, hair hanging slightly over his eyes as he lifts his head. “I- I don’t…I suppose, Shido--”

“Never cared about you, and you know that. He’s suffering in jail, his reputation is ruined, and he’ll spend the rest of his life feeling guilty for everything he did to you and everyone else.” Feet heavy, Akira steps in from of Akechi and plants a hand on each of his shoulders, lightly shaking him. “Isn’t that enough? What else could you need him for?”

“I don’t have anyone else,” Akechi’s voice shakes, prompting his face to turn red in a mix of embarrassment of anger, and he defensively pushes Akira away with both arms. “In case you’ve forgotten, I was born into this world an undesirable child, and that’s how I left it.”

Akira kicks at the ground in consideration, but after no more than a moment he reaches for Akechi’s wrist, stuffing the notebook and the hand holding it back into his back pocket.

“H-hey!”

“I want to show you something,” Akira grins, dragging Akechi along through his protests and pulling him out of the velvet room, back into the real world where the sun almost blinds them on re-entry.

“Where are we going?” Akechi’s voice cracks, his hyper-consciousness forcing him to cover his mouth and straighten up, following Akira even through the mystery.

“You’ll see,” Akira smiles, sticking one wireless earbud into his ear and nodding Akechi closer. “If anyone sees me talking to no one, they’ll just assume bluetooth.”

“That’s...” Despite everything, Akechi laughs, sidling up next to Akira until their arms touch. “Actually quite genius of you. Surprisingly thoughtful too… Thank you.”

For all that gesture meant, Akira doesn’t make much use of it at first. Their walk is mostly filled with Akechi’s chattering; he points out every shop and stand he’s eaten at before, describing their most interesting dish and even going so far as to pull up pictures on his phone that he’d taken of them. Each picture is framed impeccably, each intricate detail taken into account and made to look as delicious as each creator had likely intended. But Akira only smiles knowingly, as they board their next train and take standing positions this time, hands gripping the same overhead handle so Akechi’s ‘invisible’ frame takes up less space. The train’s always crowded during breaks, but Akira doesn’t mind much; it’s easier to blend in to a crowd the bigger it is. Even better, it forces Akechi’s body right up against his as the car fills and pushes everyone closer.

“It’s just like the coffee,” he whispers, face tucked over Akechi’s shoulder so he can speak as quietly as possible. “You don’t really like all those foods. You just like talking about them.” Akechi’s forehead crinkles in response, eyebrows knit when he turns to Akira, questioning so much as once when he looks at him, but self-deprecating chuckle and turn of his head are answer enough. Akira tucks in closer, “What _do_ you like? For yourself, not for anyone else?”

“I don’t know,” Akechi admits solemnly, but after a quiet moment, he turns towards Akira, the distance seeming all that smaller now that their noses are almost touching. “I guess, I like you.”

“Yeah,” Akira nods. “I figured.”

To anyone else, it’s the most inconspicuous Akira’s been all day, standing almost perfectly still and looking at nothing at all. But his and Akechi’s reality is different from theirs in that moment, their eyes locked into a strange trance that holds them there until the next stop – which Akechi is relieved to find out is theirs.  
  
Akira leads them out, down streets he has memorized after many trips on this exact journey – but never with Akechi, before now. He keeps quiet about it all too, even when Akechi does get curious enough to ask where he’s going; secrets are more fun, because they lead to surprises. Eventually they arrive at the planetarium, and Akira revels in only having to pay one admission fee even with a guest at his side.

“Here? What’s special about this place?” Akechi eventually asks, and it’s just the right question for Akira to finally answer him.

“Hold onto that word,” he gestures a point of a finger towards Akechi’s chest, but does little to actually answer the question, leading Akechi to a corner of the main observatory, where there’s a rounded waist-high handlebar extended out into the view of the solar system. “Alright, we’re here.”

Akechi blinks at him, no closer to understanding his intentions or the meaning behind this particular locale, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t willing to try, so try he does, stepping up as close to the barrier as he can get, intentionally brushing up against Akira’s shoulder. “It is a nice view,” he notes, placing both hands on the bar and looking upwards at the sky for a long moment of silent reflection. “It’s a bit unsettling to look at it for long periods of time… Comforting as well. Strange...” Akechi’s head hangs in thought.

“Do you like stars, Akechi?” Akira mirrors Akechi’s pose, both hands gripping the bar, though Akira’s posture does suffer in a way Akechi’s doesn’t as he naturally slouches over it. Their hands almost touch, but they don’t.

“What a strange question,” Akechi smiles to himself, looking back up towards the projected night sky instead of at the one next to him. “My mother liked them. After her passing, I remember reading a book that attempted to answer why it is people enjoy looking at stars. But instead of an answer, I onlyfound myself with a new question.”

“What question was that?”

“Hm. Whether or not any of them could be looking back.”

“Isn’t that a stranger question?” Akira quirks an eyebrow upwards, but he’s smiling, and he hopes that’s enough sign that he’s not disinterested.

“Maybe for someone like you,” Akechi offers. “Looking at the stars makes one feel so small and insignificant doesn’t it? But perhaps knowing there may be some other creatures near other stars out there looking up and seeing ours, gave some meaning to it. To me.”

“Ouch,” Akira whispers harshly, gripping the bar and leaning his weight backwards on his heels, stretching both his legs and arms out. “You’ve really good the poetic brooding down.”

“It’s not like that!” Akechi turns a distinct red again, but with nowhere to hide his face, he locks on his companion with a shaky resolve. “You’re spectacular, of course you wouldn’t understand.”

Akira audibly scoffs, pulling back up straight onto his feet and facing Akechi’s side. “I don’t really think I am, but if you’re so sure, it doesn’t make sense not to think so about yourself too.”

“Hmph,” Akechi crosses both of his arms, facing Akira head-on and shaking his head at him, bemused. “After all I’ve told you about myself, how could you think otherwise?”

“After all you’ve told me,” Akira repeats, as a full-stop statement rather than the question Akechi had posed. “Have you ever told so much to anyone else?”

“Of course not,” Akechi mutters. “I’ve never wanted to.”

“We share something pretty special,” Akira winks, grabbing hold of the bar behind him and pushing himself up onto it, sitting comfortably with little worry, even though there’s not nearly enough room for his rear end to perfectly balance on it. “Hand-picked by a _god_ , the two of us.” He can’t help but laugh.

“Yes, I always felt as if we were fated,” Akechi considers this, reaching deep to pull out the playfulness buried within him and lifting up a single pinky finger. “Is there by chance an invisible red thread connecting us here?”

“Maybe,” Akira nods, lifting his own hand to match Akechi’s motion, pinky finger up straight in the air with a smile in his direction. The sentimental moment almost lasts too long, so Akira can’t help shoving up his thumb. “Aloh--” he jokes with a wide grin, but the shake he gives his hand is just enough to set him off balance, tipping him backwards, and he’d have fallen flat on his ass were it not for Akechi’s quick reach, grabbing for Akira’s hand and pulling him back onto solid ground.

“Close,” Akechi breathes, heavy enough that he was likely holding his breath for the few seconds it took for him to manage such a maneuver.

“Yeah, we are,” Akira drawls, finding himself again pressed up against Akechi, truthfully, with very little to complain about. “That was pretty smooth. I didn’t know you were strong enough to do that.”

“Bouldering,” Akechi smiles proudly.

“I’ve always wanted to try mountain climbing,” Akira’s eyes perk up. “Aren’t they similar? Let’s do that next time. I kinda want to see what you’re like when you’re having fun.”

“You’ve seen me having fun.”

“No secrets or lies this time.”

“Fair enough.” Akechi nods, hair falling in his face, finally coming un-done after all the scuffles he’s endured already today, and he’s about to reach behind him and fix it when Akira beats him to it, wrapping both arms around his neck from in front of him and fiddling with his hair, pulling it back up into a makeshift clip. “Do you do these things just to tease me?” Akechi sighs.

“Not at all,” Akira admits truthfully, unable to contain the slight shudder that washes over him when the warm breath from Akechi’s sigh reaches his skin, his clever move backfiring on him much more easily than he could ever have anticipated. “We should go or else I’ll try to kiss you or something.”

Akira already has his back turned before Akechi can react, but when he does, he has to take a few shocked steps backward, almost tripping right over the barrier he’d just saved Akira from moment before, incoherently stuttering, “Y-you were thinking about it?!”

“For like a year, yeah,” Akira blanches, looking over his shoulder only to make sure Akechi’s following as he heads out. Of course, Akechi is. “Heh, you’re gonna try and tell me you’ve never thought about making out with me? Yeah right.”

“Making out!” Akechi’s voice jumps half an octave, and he’s suddenly thankful his voice can’t be heard by a single person around him, and the way Akira is grinning so _smugly_ when Akechi finally catches up to him only makes that feeling stronger. “You sure are confident...”

“About this? Yeah. I’m so sure that if I’m wrong, I’ll get on my hands and knees and apologize.”

Akechi’s red face has since returned to normal, but at that, a hand comes up to cover it as his expression shifts in a way that he’d rather keep hidden. “I didn’t say you were wrong, but that image...”

Akira stops in his tracks, abandoning all tact or secrecy as he turns all the way around in one swift turn, looking Akechi directly in the eye, his voice lowered. “You’re a secret pervert. And a sadistic one at that?”

“I don’t recall admitting that,” Akechi grumbles under his breath. “Even if it’s true--”

“Is it?” Akira’s eyes go wide, but he moves in closer, his voice deeper and barely above a whisper. “Tell me what you’ve thought about doing to me.”

“No!” Akechi shoves him away, face hot and flustered, not thinking straight as he starts to leave without checking if Akira’s even following him. But, of course he is.

“No one can hear you.”

“They can hear you!”

Akira laughs and takes a long stride forward, so he’s just ahead of Akechi but matching his gradually evening step, and concedes. “I knew the mood was too romantic here,” he sighs. “We should just go back to my place.”

“That sounds counter-productive,” Akechi muses through clearing his throat, but he does a terrible job of hiding the tremble in his voice.

“Yeah,” Akira grins, as if that explains everything, and Akechi stares at him as they walk, lost in thought that puts him into a comfortable silence that matches Akira’s. His face is as hot as its ever been, even hotter than that takoyaki, and it confuses him to think about why.

But then together they board the train, and slide comfortably into seats next to one another, and Akira reaches for Akechi’s hand again, this time threading their fingers together, and leaving them there. Things feel slightly less confusing for Akechi in that moment.

They don’t say a word, but Akechi falls asleep on Akira’s shoulder, and Akira doesn’t mind.

When they do arrive back at their stop, Akechi is expecting the warmth in his hand to be taken from him right away, so assuredly, that he’s the one that releases Akira’s hand from his inexplicably sweaty grip, but after they’ve both wipes their palms, Akira takes hold of Akechi’s hand again, holding it down close at his side all the way through their transfer and second train ride. It isn’t until Leblanc is in sight, memories filling his nostrils with the scent of coffee even without one present in reality, that Akechi halts, his clutch on Akira’s hand held tight, until Akira turns around.

“What’s wrong?”

Akechi smiles, but his eyes seem far away, as he sighs, “This is nice. The nicest I’ve felt in a long time, but...where does this lead?” Akira’s blank expression contorts into a slightly sinister one, milliseconds away from biting his lip before Akechi shakes his head. “I don’t mean the immediate next stop on our journey. But what of the future?”

“Proposing already?” Akira feigns the most genuine-looking surprise he can, but Akechi neither believes it nor takes the bait, fingers curling around Akira’s hand and a tightening of his jaw.

“Akira, if you are the only one who can see me, doesn’t that put a great burden on you to keep me around? Wouldn’t it be easier if I weren’t?”

“Easier maybe,” Akira doesn’t have to mull that over much. “But so what? I’m glad you’re here.”

“Is that so?” Akechi smiles, gripping Akira’s hand a little bit tighter. “Even though we don’t know how long I’ll be like this?”

“Exactly,” Akira shakes his head. “Live in the present, Akechi.”

“You don’t ever plan things out, do you?” Akechi sets his free hand on his hip, mysteriously adamant on not letting Akira’s go from the other, but Akira looks right at him as he shrugs. “You do seem happier than I have been, so alright, Akira. I’ll let you lead.”

“You mean like I have been this entire time?"  
  
“That’s not fair. You’ve had much more experience in the realm of romantic ventures.”

“You don’t need experience to date someone, Akechi.” Though regrettably, Akira lets their hands part, using his to run fingers through his hair. “You just do what feels good with them. There aren’t rules.”

“Is that so?” Akechi considers, replacing his now empty hand with his other one, immediately seeking the sense of warmth he’d just had taken from him, however small, and it’s perhaps that sensation combined with Akira’s words that has him understanding what to do. As soon as Akira isn’t looking, Akechi steps right up to him, placing a warm hand on his cheek and soft kiss on his lips. “Like that?” He asks Akira’s surprised eyes. “That’s what I wanted to do.”

“Oh.” Akira blinks. “Good.”

“That’s all?” Akechi leans back, letting his weight fall to one hip with a hand following suit. “And here I thought that might surprise you.”

“Oh, it did,” Akira shakes his head, but instead of explaining any further, he takes Akechi’s wrist and outright drags him all the way into Leblanc, relieved to find Sojiro still isn’t back yet; out late just as he’d promised. He doesn’t stop even after the door locks behind them, pulling Akechi up the stairs and dropping his bag on the floor next to his bed. “Alright. Here’s better.”

Akira glances at Akechi expectantly, and Akechi instinctively looks behind him when he notices, eyebrows raised when he looks back. “...Are you expecting me to make the next move too?”

“Just hoping, I guess,” Akira laughs. “But if you didn’t enjoy it the first time--”

“No!” Akechi defensively shouts on impulse, swiftly throwing both arms around Akira’s neck and wrapping them around, lips colliding in a frenzied attack that Akechi aims for with closed eyes. It’s not by any means unwelcome, but when he tries to slip out of his shoes at the same time, the shuffling about has him pushing Akira backwards, or rather, just falling right on top of him.

“Well,” Akira huffs, leaning up on his elbows and kicking off his own shoes. “Guess I’m past needing to ask if you’re okay with this?”

Akechi nods, hair slipping into his face again, but he ignores it. “You wanted me to find out what I liked for myself, yes? You’re already helping.”

“I meant like food and movies,” Akira laughs warmly, tucking Akechi’s loose hair behind his ear and lingering there, the slightest hesitation before his fingertips disappear into Akechi’s long locks. “But this is better.”

Hand gripping the back of Akechi’s head, Akira pulls him in for a long-awaited and far less innocent kiss, and a hand on Akechi’s thigh that has even less pure intentions.

* * *

 

An hour later, they’re sweaty and tired, clothing abandoned on the floor and pajamas since acquired, even without a bath in-between, worth it to avoid having to get out of bed again. It’s warm enough that they don’t need blankets, but Akechi’s lower half is tucked under them anyway, even with Akira sitting on top of them, with his back against the windowsill. “It’s cute that you’re ticklish,” he smirks, cocky.

“You have incredibly skilled hands,” Akechi retorts, pulling his knees up to his chest and wrapping his arms around them, fingers threaded tightly near his ankles. “How did you acquire such...abilities?”

“Oh, you know. Twirling pencils, making lock picks. That sort of thing.” It’s not really a joke, but he laughs anyway, knowing how silly it would sound to almost anyone else. “How’d you, uh, get legs like that?”

“Biking, rock climbing. I suppose they helped,” Akechi tries to answer seriously at first, but his curious smile turns into a chuckle when he catches Akira’s eyes from under that mess of hair. “You know, even for you, that was far from eloquent.”

“Yeah,” Akira clears his throat, shifting closer. “I guess words aren’t my specialty.”

“That’s true~” Akechi chimes, a playful lilt to his voice that tickles Akira’s ears. “It’s a good thing your mouth seems to have several other useful skills to make up for it though.”

That tickles something else. “Did you just--”

“Mm-hm.”

Akira stretches his legs out, leaning his head back and letting out a curt sigh. “I knew I understood you Akechi, but I underestimated you.”

“How so?”

“We got to _this_ pretty fast. After everything between us and all that happened, I just wouldn’t have expected it.”

“Oh.” Akechi turns pensive, but only momentarily, moving out from under the covers and taking a seat next to Akira, refusing to consider himself settled until their shoulders touch. “I wouldn’t consider myself experienced enough with either, but compared to the complexity of emotional expressions of affection, I find physical expressions to be easier to understand.”

“I get that,” Akira says, sneaking an arm around Akechi’s waist. “It’s easier for me to express it physically, so I guess that works out.”

“Yeah,” Akechi leans against him. “My man of actio--” Akechi interrupts himself, clearing his throat so hard pulls his arm away, half convinced he’s choking, but he’s perfectly in control. “Ah. A man of action. Is what I meant. Yes. I’ve said so before.”

“Smooth,” Akira says as he gives in to quiet laughter. “I didn’t know you were the possessive type, but I’ll be _your_ man of action if you want.”

“That’s quite the proposal.”

“Not moving too fast?”

Akechi’s left hand meets his chin, but it’s merely a clever attempt to hide the way he smiles at that. “I have known you for more than a year, and in that time you’ve introduced me to many feelings I’d never experienced before, at least not in ways I’m familiar with. Back then, I wanted that to stop, because it was interfering with my goals, but now that there’s nothing in my way I’d like nothing more than to find out just how deep this goes.”

“You _were_ kind of obsessed with me,” Akira smiles wide. “Why is that?”

“I-I was not obsessed,” Akechi stutters on the brink of coherency. “I was interested. Intrigued. Fascinated even. It’s...as I told you when we’d first met. Advancement cannot occur without both thesis and antithesis. And you seem to be the antithesis to just about every thesis I have.”

“That was almost romantic, Akechi.”

“Was it?” he smiles proudly. “I’m trying. I’d like for our interactions to be as rewarding for you as they are for me.”

“They always have been,” Akira drops nonchalantly, unaware of how much impact such a statement has until Akechi moves to sit on his legs, facing Akira with hands on his knees and intensity in his eyes.

“Do you mean that?”

“Yeah?” Akira asks, confused but confident in that much. “Your face is so scary~” He can see Akechi winding up for a retort after that, but Akira has him beat, sliding a hand across Akechi’s hip and under his shirt to brush the skin he’d recently found to be so inexplicably sensitive. Akechi reels back, planting a hand over Akira’s to keep it from moving, suppressing his own unconscious laughter long enough to make a grab for each of Akira’s wrists, initially only intending to prevent them from doing anymore damage but eventually going as far as to pin them both down on the bed on either side of Akira’s head.

“You’re getting carried away with your teasing, Joker,” Akechi breathes.

“What are you gonna do?” Akira eyes him, eyebrows raised and voice lifted curiously. “ _Punish_ me?”

“Hah. And you call me the pervert,” Akechi remarks, leaning in to punctuate the idea itself.

“I know you are even if you won’t admit it,” Akira blanches, slightly wiggling his wrists and smirking when Akechi doesn’t let up on his grasp. “But you can’t expect me not to react to a pretty guy pinning me to my bed.”

“You’re too easy…”

“Isn’t that a good thing?” Akira jokes, but to his surprise, Akechi seems to agree, taking advantage of his position and pressing a kiss to Akira’s neck, a gesture that is more than welcome for Akira, who’s no more than a slip of a hand away from making this more interesting.

Fate has other plans in that moment though, and it’s then that Akira hears a familiar bell chime, followed my Sojiro’s voice announcing his arrival, along with Futaba’s and Morgana’s chattering right behind him.

“I’ll be right back,” Akira sighs regretfully, slithering out from underneath Akechi and rolling off the bed and onto the floor. “Hold that thought.”

“What do you plan to tell them?” Akechi questions, one eyebrow raised, now on his hands and knees without another body to complete the picture.

“I dunno,” Akira stretches. “As much as I’d like to, I don’t think I should tell Boss I want to get back to making out with my invisible boyfriend.”

“Th-Boyfriend?” Akechi blinks at him, receiving nothing more than a blank stare back, and Akechi has to sit back down, palm sliding over his chest, taking steady count of his heartbeat. “Yes, I suppose that’s what this is, isn’t it?”

“I kinda like the thought of having you all to myself,” Akira mutters to himself, but it’s loud enough for Akechi to hear, and his ears turn bright red despite how still he keeps his face, and he waits until Akira has disappeared down the stairs to follow after him, carefully and quietly taking a seat on the top step, within earshot of everyone else but avoiding being seen – even if he knows he never could be.

He listens in, on Sojiro and Futaba describing their day out, on both of them teasing Akira for staying in bed all day while on break, even if he does truthfully insist he went out with a friend. What sticks out even more is their promise to have breakfast together, and how normal and unimportant it seems to all of them. Akechi’s never known such things. He’s lost in that admiration, not noticing Akira approaching again until he’s directly in front of him and blocking the light, and Akechi looks up with an innocent laugh.

“Futaba convinced Boss to let Morgana sleep over there again,” Akira explains as he seats himself on the step next to Akechi. “So we don’t have to worry about anything.”

“Mm, that was some quick thinking,” Akechi mutters, dazed, hand propping up his chin.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, truly,” Akechi shakes his head, smiling as he turns his head towards Akira. “I was just thinking that you really seemed like a family, even though you’re not related. It’s both fascinating and admirable. Even more than that...enviable.”

“Why envy? You’re a part of it now.” Akira plops a hand onto Akechi’s knee, giving it a squeeze. “Someone should’ve told you a long time ago you don’t have to define your family by blood.”

“Yes...” Akechi nods at first, but his smile quickly fades, his gaze leaving Akira’s and drifting off towards nothing in particular, his voice sounding equally far away. “It should have been you.”

Akira shifts against the creaking wood floor, brushing his unkempt hair out of his face. “What do you mean?”

“The one to tell me that, among all the other things I needed to know...” Akechi’s hands wrap around his knees, fingers threading and un-threading nervously, a slight rock of his heels and a bite of his lip adding to his restlessness. “Akira, if we had met earlier like I’d wished, do you think we’d still have ended up here?”

“If you mean here,” Akira waves his hand aimlessly, gesturing about the room and through the air, attempting to convey _everything_. “Then, no. But if you mean _here_ ,” Akira slides in, wrapping an arm tightly around Akechi’s waist and pulling him close, resting their foreheads together and looking Akechi right in the eye. “I think we would have for sure.”

“We were fated, weren’t we?” Akechi stares back, gaze soft and voice even softer. “I’m glad I was able to meet you, even if it had to be like this.”

For a short while, it’s quiet. Akechi’s heart is calm, as it Akira’s mind, and the silence is a moment of shared understanding and comfort, forehead-to-forehead and hand-to-hand, until Akechi sheds another tear and immediately feels compelled to wipe it away, brushing it off with a casual laugh. Akira beats him to the second one though, wiping under Akechi’s eye with his knuckle and expressing no qualms about it.

“I suppose it’s too early to tell you I love you already, right?” Akechi jokes, but not really, considering too late the potential consequences of always baring his soul to Akira so easily.

“You just said it,” Akira teases, hand brushing through Akechi’s hair and landing comfortably on his shoulder. “But you’re not even the fastest.”

“I had debated whether or not you were popular in that sense too,” Akechi muses out loud. “I guess that answers that question, although it would be easier not to feel jealous if others could see me with you.”

“You have a point,” Akira hums absently. “I guess we’ll just have to find a way to make them see you.”

“That sounds impossible,” Akechi shakes his head, lifting a hand to his forehead and touching it, feeling the warmth where Akira’s had just been. “Though I suppose if anyone could do it, it would be you.”

“I’ll do it,” Akira nods decisively. “I promi-- Mm. It doesn’t feel good to say that again.”

“It’s okay,” Akechi smiles, taking each of Akira’s hands and threading their fingers together. “It won’t be the last time.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> \o/ I started working on this as soon as I finished the game. I haven't read any P5 fic yet due to that so I don't know what people like or what's been done, but I enjoyed writing this, so thank you for reading! A part of me wants to write a sequel to this, but who knows~


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